Once he sang
Twice he played
On the heartstrings of Eurydice
His life, his love.

Taken in sweltering passion,
The woman of desire arose.
Cut down by fang and tooth
In the Garden of delight.

In Earth's twilight, she fell
Raised again in underworld's dawn.
Slave of Hades and Persephone's will
Crying out in chambers of moonlight.

And so he spoke, cleaving the rock
To the hidden chamber below Ascheron's Gate.
Strung he the lute, weapon of the gods,
Bowing to none on his journey below.

'Ere fire-lit passage and darkened remiss,
He climbed ever lower, the shadow abyss.
Over crushed soul and rock alike
He played the string for the everlasting night.

The chamber below was full of the dead,
Gnashing and weeping and wailing aloud.
All fell silent when Orpheus stood,
Standing proud before Hades, alone.

Visceral pain and a moment removed
Servant now to the music played.
Three times struck, the end!
His chords fell on blackened breath.

The Master hissed, all clamored back,
In the wave of Beauty against Death.
"What do you want, knave?" his question resounded
"Only what is mine, and nothing more" replied he.

Persephone smiled as plague trailed out,
"Give him his wish, but at peril"
"Look not on your love as you ascend our world,"
"Lest you lose her in blackness forever."

The deal was struck, writ in cold blood
As the hammer of Vulcan crumbled.
Grasping her hand, he turned to the Light,
And away from his soul's true anchor.

Upward through mist they scrabbled and climbed,
The heat of Hades still trailing.
Till presently found the sweet air of Present,
O'er the Elysium Fields.

With fresh wind inhaled, his eyes became lost,
And he searched for his love before time.
A scream and a scar, she vanished from sight,
Forever imprisoned below.

Orpheus knelt, his knees crushing rock
To the ground of the cave he indwelt.
His lyre now shattered, his soul torn in two
He had failed the test without question.

To live is to die, our footfalls have purpose,
Alone as we are in the night.
Though he was the king of ethereal worlds,
His bane was the art of instruction.